


Movie Night

by LondonGypsy



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: Benedict is too damn sexy in glasses, F/M, First Kiss, GlassesBatch, Hand & Finger Kink, One Night Stand, One Shot, Sexy Times, Stalking, Voice Kink, and doesnt even know it, is it though?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:35:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1192167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonGypsy/pseuds/LondonGypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ally runs into Benedict at the movies- literally.<br/>See what happens when both discover that they seem to have a little Glasses!Kink going for the other one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Movie Night

**Author's Note:**

> I guess we all have seen those (damn) pap pics of BC leaving the cinema in bloody GLASSES!!! (Yes, I do have a little Glasses!Kink, sue me!)  
> This is what my overactive mind came up with what might happen... (all fantasies, I fear but hey, what better outlet is there than to write it?)
> 
> As always: a huge thank you to Barawen for the BritPick and calliope79 for cheerleading!

  
He's not used to them.

They must be new. 

He's fumbling with them all the time. 

Pushing them up, fiddling with them, taking them off and putting them back on. 

It's entertaining to watch. 

Only he doesn't know that he is being watched. 

He'd probably stop it the second he catches sight of me. 

I shouldn't stare, should leave him alone but the sight of him is enthralling. 

I could get lost in those hands, those elegant fingers, long and almost obscenely dexterous. 

Sighing I tear my eyes away from him. 

Only to return my gaze back to him, staring over the frame of my own glasses. 

He's with a friend, trying to behave as inconspicuous as possible, the flat cap pulled far onto his angelic face, the black rimmed spectacles hiding those extraordinary cheekbones. 

And yet he stands out like a sore thumb. 

I can't really put my finger on it, can't tell what made me turn around as he walked into the cinema. 

All ordinary in a black cardigan, black jeans, the only colour the blue checkered shirt underneath. 

There is something in the way he walks and moves. 

There is a grace to all his movements that gives him away. 

And his voice, of course. Unmistakable and so distinctive I would notice it everywhere. 

That smooth baritone, that chases goosebumps over my skin every time I hear him talk. The voice that sounds like honey poured of simmering coals, dark and husky, perfect for whispering endearments in one's ear on a cold dark night. 

 _Get a grip, woman_ I tell myself while I watch him munching popcorn and chatting quietly with the man by his side. 

I'm pretty sure I have seen him before but can't really sort him. Also an actor, I'm quite certain about it but that's it. 

The low rumble of Benedict's laugh has me whip around and I almost drop my drink. 

It's always a pleasurable sight to see him laugh and now, with him feeling incognito, it's even more beautiful to watch. 

He has his head thrown back, exposing the long pale column of his throat and if I squint I can almost see the freckles dotted over his neck. 

His eyes are crinkling and so is his nose. 

God, I love that nose crinkle so much. 

Curling my itching fingers into fists I have to breathe away the overwhelming urge to run my fingers over those adorable wrinkles. 

Somewhere a tiny bell is announcing that the film's about to begin. 

I wait for them to stand before I slowly follow them inside the cinema hall. 

My eyes slide over his backside, up and down those incredible long legs, admiring the smooth movement of the muscles there. 

Letting them pick a seat first I choose one a few rows behind and to the left so I can keep watching them. 

Benedict is fumbling with his glasses again, taking them off and holding them against the light before he returns them to his nose. 

His friend says something to him that has him shake his head violently and they slide down again. 

I chuckle to myself; it's an age old game and yet one one never can avoid. 

The room is half empty, the film has run for a few weeks already and it's a Wednesday night - not many fancy a night at the movies around this time. 

I keep my eyes on him but soon the lights fade and the film starts. 

Relaxing back into my seat I turn my attention to the screen but not without being over aware of his presence only a few seats away. 

 *

The credits roll and I stretch, not ready to go back to reality just yet. I love going to the movies. For a few hours one can forget everything, leave all the problems one has behind and dive into a fantastic world of heroes and villains, leaving it to others to fight the battle of being alive. 

I glance over to Benedict and he's still slouched in his seat, blinking into the oncoming light like a huge owl. 

Slowly he stretches too, his limbs long and lithe; he looks like a big lazy cat and I'm once again fascinated by his body control. 

He slumps back into his seat, seemingly not wanting to get up. 

Bit by bit the room empties and it's when the last one has left that he eventually gets up, yawning and immediately looking guiltily at his friend. 

The man just laughs and claps him on the shoulder. 

They stumble through the rows, and I can hear them talk quietly. 

"Coffee, Ben?" 

"God yes." 

"I know a great place just around the corner, c'mon." 

They walk up the aisle and vanish through the doors. 

I'm the last one. 

Grabbing my purse I leisurely make my way towards the exit, revelling in the wonders of tonight. 

How high are chances to run into the man you adore? Not very high I suppose and yet it happened. 

Still happily pondering this fact I open the door, squinting into the bright lights outside the cinema. Slightly blinded by it I take a few steps only to run into someone. 

"Goodness, I am so sorry, I didn't see you." 

I freeze, nose pressed against the soft cotton of a cardigan. 

It can't be. 

I take a step back as the owner of the black cardigan turns, and I forget to breathe. 

Benedict's eyes are wide behind those glasses, sparkling blue and green in the hard light. 

"Gosh, I'm really sorry. Are you hurt?" 

There are frown lines on his forehead, deep and concerned as he looks at me with those beautiful eyes, head tilted as he waits for an answer. 

My voice is betraying me so I only nod. 

"Way to pick up women, Ben?" 

"Och, shut up." 

I hear the banter through cotton, blood is rushing loudly in my ears and all I can do is stare at him. 

"Shit, you dropped your popcorn," I hear in that soothing voice I have dreamed about so many times. 

Before I can even move a muscle he's on his knees, scooping away on the remains of my film snack, trying to get it all back into its bag. 

It would be hilarious wasn't I be in such a shock. 

He stands elegantly, looks around and finds a bin. He throws the popcorn bag into it and turns back to me. 

"Let me get you a new one, yes?" 

Finally I find my voice back. Clearing my throat I croak:

"God no, it wasn't even your fault. I should pay more attention where I walk. I'm sorry." 

His eye narrow a bit.

"Are you alright? You sound a bit... ill," he says. 

I swallow and straighten my back. 

"Yes, sorry. I'm alright, thank you." 

I can't help but smile at him. This is like a dream come true. 

"You sure?" 

I nod, pushing my glasses up. He catches the motion and grins, mirroring it with his own. 

"They suit you," I blurt out, immediately blushing furiously. 

He ducks his head, colour rising on his cheeks. 

"Uh, you think? They're new and I can't really get used to them. They keep sliding down." 

"You get used to them," I say shyly. My face burning but the lopsided smile he gives me, eases the awkwardness. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yes. Just give it time. You look great with them." 

He blushes again and god, it's the most adorable thing. 

"Thank you...listen, you really don't want some new popcorn? I feel like I have to get you something..." 

My head's buzzing and once again I find myself staring at this extraordinary man, our gaze meeting for a moment and I could get lost in his eyes. 

A loud cough next to us has Benedict turn his head. 

"Are you quite done yet, mate? I don't wanna be a party pooper but you're slowly starting to attract attention. Not sure you want that..." 

Benedict's friend jerks his head to a few onlookers and by the dazed looks in their face they know exactly who's in front of them. 

"Shit," Benedict murmurs, instinctively pulling his cap lower in his face.

"Go," I say, making a shooing motion, "they will only wait so long before they wake from their shock. If you don't wanna be harassed you better leave now. I'm good here, really." 

"You sure?" he asks again but slowly backs away. 

I nod wildly, keeping an eye on the onlookers. One of them pulls out a mobile, not long now. 

"Go," I urge him, "now." 

"Come on, man, she's right. If you don't wanna spend the evening being papped we better leave." 

His friend pulls him towards the exit and eventually Benedict gives in.

But even as he's hurrying after his friend he looks over his shoulder, his eyes finding mine. He smiles at me and it'll be something that will stay with me for quite some time. 

A bit dazed I stumble towards a nearby chair; my knees are a bit weak and my heart is racing in my chest. 

This was surreal and yet the most amazing encounter I have ever had. 

I actually talked to him, talked to the man I dream about so many nights. Never in my life could I have imagined this. 

I was shocked when I wandered into the cinema tonight, seeing him at the bar but never in a million years I would have dared to talk to him. 

Watching - 'stalking, you mean' the little voice in my head throws in - him is one thing; it doesn't hurt anyone and I am not one who takes sneaky pictures of him. 

Of course I enjoyed following his every move but I kept in the back, never actually approached him.

But this? Running into him - literally - having him talk to me? 

I still can't fathom it. 

Staying put for a few more minutes I wait till my racing heart stops trying to jump out of my chest. When I'm certain that my knees will carry me again, I stand. 

For a moment I am at a loss at what to do before I stagger towards the exit.

The cool January breeze feels soothing after the rather stale air inside and I take a few calming breaths. 

Buttoning my coat up I consider taking a cab back home when a voice besides me starts me. 

"Hey." 

I jump but the voice in the back of my head knows instantly and as I turn, a hand over my thundering heart, Benedict grins sheepishly at me. 

"Sorry. I seem to have that effect on you, huh?" 

I giggle, I cant help it and it makes him smile. 

"Anyhow," he says, casting a glance around, "how about a coffee? I feel terrible for spilling your popcorn..." 

"Huh?" 

He chuckles softly. 

"Well...I'm English, we need to apologise, it's in our blood. I can't let you leave without at least trying to make up for my misfortune in there." 

He tilts his head, his eyes somewhat pleading behind his glasses. 

"Please? I would feel bad for the rest of the day..." 

Somehow that breaks the shock that roots me to my spot. 

"It's almost midnight," I say, glancing at my watch. 

He laughs out loudly and instantly ducks his head, casting a wary look around. 

"Then you don't have to abide with me for any length of time," he grins, the sense of victory seeping from his features. 

"I sent my friend home," he adds, winking at me, "he wasn't pleased. I’ll have to make up for that tomorrow. Come on, just one coffee. You can tell me how long it takes to get used to these." 

He gestures at his glasses, looking so utterly boyish that I don't really have a choice. 

"Fine," I say, surprised at the strength of my own voice. 

"Wonderful," he smirks and without another word he turns and walks down the street. Shaking my head at the strange turn of events tonight I follow him on wobbly legs. 

 *

15 minutes later we sit in a deserted coffee-shop in the very back, Benedict with his back to the wide window. 

He orders two extra large coffees and without asking also some pie to go with it. 

"I have a sweet tooth," he mutters when I raise an eyebrow at him. 

"At 11.30 at night?" I ask, giggling. 

He shrugs and takes off his glasses, polishing them with an edge of the cardigan before he puts them back on. 

"I'm still on UK time," he explains before digging into his pie with visible joy.

I am in awe, utterly dazzled by the fact that I’m having coffee with Benedict Cumberbatch. 

"Pinch me." 

He looks up. 

"What?" 

"Pinch me so I know I am not dreaming," I repeat. 

He frowns at me. 

"I am not pinching you," he mumbles around a forkful of cake. 

"Well, then I assume I am dreaming this and will probably wake up in my bed anytime soon..." 

"Fine," he sighs. 

He takes his fork and gently pokes it into my arm, watching me closely. 

"Good enough?" 

I chuckle at his childlike behaviour and nod. 

"That should do." 

"Good. Now, eat your cake." 

"Yes, Sir." 

"Good girl." 

He looks at me and after a heartbeat we both explode with laughter. Tears start running down his face and I have to hold my stomach. 

Taking off his glasses he puts them on the table, wiping his eyes. 

"God, I so needed this," he wheezes between giggles. 

"Here to help," I deadpan, slowly calming down again. 

I can't help but watch him chuckle a bit longer, admire the lovely crinkles around his sparkling eyes, the amusement dancing over his face. 

He's absolutely gorgeous: the dimmed light of the coffee shop casts harsh shadows over his unusual face, enhances its remarkable beauty. 

He's taken off the cap, his hair is plastered to his head, only a meddlesome strand curls around his forehead, bouncing in time with his subsiding chuckles. 

I only realise that I've reached out to push it back when my hand is already halfway in the air. 

Embarrassment washes over me in hot waves and I quickly turn to my coffee, hiding my burning face in the mug.

He stops laughing and a heavy silence falls over our table. 

I don't dare to look up but I feel his gaze on me and I duck my head. 

His clothes rustle as he shifts in his seat, and I suddenly catch a whiff of his aftershave. 

Biting my tongue to not make a sound I bury my nose deeper in my mug. 

"Hey," he says lowly, a finger gently tapping against the ceramic, "don't hide." 

His voice has dropped at least an octave and I involuntarily shiver at the sound. 

"Ah," he murmurs, making me glance up at him. 

His brows are furrowed but there's a light gleaming in his eyes that makes my stomach lurch. 

"You're a fan." 

It's not a question just a simple fact. But the way he's looking at me, he wants it confirmed. 

Blushing furiously I jerk my head in a sharp nod. 

"I figured." 

Silence again. 

Then: 

"And yet you told us to leave as you noticed others recognising me. Why?" 

I can't pinpoint his tone; there is something harsh in his words and yet he's not accusing or judging me. 

Shrugging I peak over my glasses, meeting his gaze for a second before I look away. 

"I...well, you obviously didn't want to be noticed," I nod towards the cap, laying on the table next to him, "you seemed like you only wanted to enjoy the film..." 

I quirk an apologetic smile at him. 

"Might have worked with most of them...but, well I would recognise you anywhere." 

Squaring my shoulders I look up, steeling myself for the look of disapproval I'm certain I'll see on his face at that revelation. 

Instead his features soften and he relaxes back into his seat. 

"Protective fangirl, that's what you are, eh?" 

He actually smirks at me and the icy knot in my stomach melts a little. 

"Yeah well, I didn't *plan* on running into you, if that's what you're concerned about. I just wanted to see the film, just like you." 

I sound defensive now but it only makes him smile wider. 

"Hey, don't stress it, it happens all the time. Actually..." he hesitates before he continues, "it's the first time one of your lot told me to leave." 

"My lot?" 

I can hear the pique in my own words but Benedict keeps smiling. 

"Yes, your lot. Normally I don't get away that easy so thank you for that." 

He reaches out and lays a hand on mine, squeezing gently. 

"You know, that meant a lot to me. I wasn't really in the mood for photos and chit chat." 

"You're chatting with me..." I reply lamely, completely taken aback at the warmth of his skin against mine. 

"You're lovely... and you like my glasses." 

That comment makes me giggle again but it dies quickly at the sudden heat I see in his eyes. 

"And you're also bloody gorgeous. Those glasses of yours...damn, girl, they suit you." 

He is purring the last words, his fingers closing around my wrist and I can feel every single fingertip burning against my flesh. 

Goodness, what the hell is happening here? 

"I seem to have a slight...well, let's call it preference, and I didn't even know it," he murmurs as his hand wanders up my arm, shoving the sleeve of my shirt upwards. 

"You mean kink?" I gasp as his fingers slide over the thin skin of the crook of my arm. 

My pulse is racing and he feels it; a predatory grin lingers over his lips. 

"Hmmm," he hums, pressing his palm against my arm, his fingers never stop moving. 

I swallow around the lump in my throat and lean closer, shooting every precaution in the wind. 

"I've always loved you in glasses," I admit hoarsely, making him groan lowly. 

"Bloody hell," he curses, his hand closing tightly around my arm before he lets go. 

He leans back and lets his gaze run over me, his eyes stormy and clouded. 

"Mind if we get out of here?" he eventually asks breathlessly. 

Not waiting for me to answer he stands and throws a few notes in the table. Grabbing his glasses and his cap, he dons both and strides towards the door. 

At the door he pauses and looks over his shoulder. He raises a challenging eyebrow at me and that's all it takes to have me on my feet and by his side. 

"My hotel is just around the corner," he murmurs as he holds the door for me. 

The words barely register, all I feel is the hotness of his breath against my skin and I bite back a moan. 

"Lead the way," I mutter, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my coat to hide how shaky they are. 

He does, walking quickly down the street, not stopping once. I have trouble keeping up with his long strides but soon the bright lights of the hotel blink through the darkness. 

Suddenly Benedict stops and I can barely halt my steps to not run into him. Again. 

He rumbles a low laugh but sobers up quickly. 

"We better not go in together. My room number's 485, give me five minutes." 

I nod wordlessly, repeating the number over and over in my head. 

Watching me closely, he nods once and turns. But then he swirls around again and crowds me against the wall of the next building. 

"Something as appetiser," he growls as his lips crash against mine. 

His kiss is wild and untamed and instantly I melt against him, my hands scrambling for a hold as his mouth reduces me to a quivering mess pressed against his chest. 

His tongue slips past my lips, hot and wet and demanding. He's kissing like a starving man and I cling to him to not slide to the floor. His arms hold me up, his pelvis pressing me hard against the bricks in my back, letting me feel his hardness. 

He's groaning, a low rumble against my body, making me shudder in anticipation. 

But before I can return the kiss properly he breaks it, taking a step back, panting. 

"Five minutes," he murmurs, his eyes burning fiercely in the darkness of the street. 

"Hurry," I reply roughly, leaning against the wall. My legs threaten to give in and his presence doesn't make it easier to stay upright. 

He growls and that sounds unfurls a hot desire in my stomach. 

"Go." 

Without another word he turns and quickly walks towards the entrance. 

I watch him vanish through the doors before I let out a deep sigh. 

Pulling out my mobile I set the countdown for five minutes. 

 *

4 minutes and 50 seconds later I stroll into the lobby, trying to look as casual as possible. 

Despite the late hour, the lobby is buzzing but I ignore that and scan the place for the elevators. 

There. 

The closer I get to them, the more nervous I become. 

My hand is shaking violently as I push the button to call the lift. 

It seems to take ages but eventually it pings and the doors slide open. 

I walk in on wobbly knees, assess which floor and press the button with a bit more force than needed. 

When the doors open again on the fourth floor I stare at the long hallway without moving. My mind is racing. 

What the hell am I doing here??? 

"Ahem, you're getting out or not", a voice asks. A woman stands outside, eyeing me carefully.

"Ah yes, sorry," I say and leave the elevator. 

I hear the doors close behind me and the quiet whirring as it descends again. 

Checking the door number right next to me, I take a deep breath and start walking down the hall. 

485 is a suite at the end of the hallway. 

Naturally. 

Hesitantly I pace the space in front of the door, oddly reluctant to knock. 

This is insane. And yet I am here. 

Suddenly the door opens and Benedict's voice floats into the hall. 

“Are you coming in or do you wanna stay out there all night?" 

My stomach flips at the words and taking a deep breath I step into the room. 

The door closes behind me and Benedict leans against it, smirking darkly at me. He has undressed: only wearing jeans and a white tee, feet bare on the thick carpet. His hair is a ruffled mess and his eyes are sparkling behind his glasses. 

"Thought you bailed," he says in a raspy tone. It chases a shiver down my spine and he snickers lowly. 

Lifting two long fingers, he drawls: 

"So, glasses _and_  voice kink. I see. Anything else I need to know?" 

His gaze is locked with mine, the intensity of it is taking my breath away. 

Wordlessly I shake my head; that's all I am capable off. 

He pushes away from the door, slowly closing the distance between us. 

"If _I_ discover another one...I'll let you know," he murmurs as his hands slowly push my coat of my shoulders. 

He slides his hands around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest, making me gasp at the heat he's radiating. 

"You're allowed to touch, you know," he whispers in my ear, his breath against my skin chasing another shiver through my body. 

Hesitantly I raise my hand, running my fingertips over his back. 

It is his turn to shiver now. 

Letting out a sigh his grip around me tightens and suddenly I can feel his heart, beating a bit fast against my chest. 

Encouraged by that I slip my other hand over his shoulder, up his neck and into his hair. 

He groans lowly and then his lips find mine. 

I expected another heated, wild kiss. 

Instead he's kissing me gently, taking his time to explore my mouth. His lips are warm and soft as they brush over mine, shooting sparks of pleasure through my body. 

He's moaning quietly as he coaxes my lips apart and I cling to him as our tongues meet. The feeling of it, of him that close, that aroused, is dazzling and my own grip on him tightens. 

The noises he makes, low yet needy and urgent shoot desire through my veins, coiling in my stomach and between my legs. 

I press harder against him, wanting to crawl into him but he breaks the kiss, gasping for air. 

I make a whining sound and he smiles at me, his lips glistening and red in the dimmed lights of the room. 

"Oh no," he murmurs, nipping at my lower lip before he withdraws completely, "we're going to take this slow...so very slow..." 

His voice is barely audible and yet I can feel every single syllable vibrate in the air between us. 

He takes my hand and leads me further into the room. 

"Do you want a drink?" he asks, gesturing at a small table with assorted bottles. 

"I want you," I reply calmly, turning to face him. 

All the insecurity, the hesitance has fallen away as he kissed me. 

Yes, I know this is going to be one night only thing but I intend on having just as much out of this as he. 

He swallows, his eyes narrow but he nods sharply. 

"And I you," he says roughly. 

His gaze slides over me, slowly and appreciatively before he pulls me close once more. 

Leaning down he kisses me, deep and languid, his tongue sliding maddeningly slow against mine, teasing me. 

I feel his big hands slip under my shirt, caressing my bare back. The feeling of his warm palms against my skin is indescribable, and I whimper, I cant help it. 

"Sensitive," he murmurs against my mouth, his fingers drawing random patterns over my lower back. 

I faintly realise that I'm trembling in his arms. 

"Very," I admit hoarsely, slipping my own hands under his tee, holding my breath as I splay my fingers over his smooth skin. 

"Take it off," he says. 

I'm not sure which one he's referring to, mine or his but it doesn't really matter. I go with his and slowly push the fabric up his torso. 

He stands still, only lifts his arms so I can pull it over his head. 

For a moment I'm caught at the sight: him shirtless, the low lights casting wondrous shadows over his naked chest; I can see the sparse hair, golden and soft against his pale skin.  

"You are fucking gorgeous," I murmur, my fingers slowly sliding from his shoulders over his chest down to his jeans. 

He chuckles and stops my hand as I want to open the button. 

"So are you. Can I see?" 

Despite the questioning tone he has already pushed my shirt up and over my head before I can even think of replying. 

"Beautiful," he mutters, leaning down and kissing a trail down my shoulder. 

His scent surrounds me, the faint hint of aftershave and something else, a bit harsh yet pleasant; it's delicious and before I can think I grab a handful of hair, bending his head back and bite his neck. 

He growls. Low and rough and that sound shoots straight between my legs, making me whine. 

"Benedict, please," I breathe, shocked by the naked need in my voice. 

Suddenly he stops and pulls back, his eyes wide and a bit shocked. 

"God, I don't even know your name," he says, blushing adorably which makes me chuckle. 

He's such a gentleman, even now. 

"I'm Ally," I reply lowly, tugging again on his jeans button. 

"Ally..." 

The word rolls over his lips like a prayer and instantly I know I wanna make him scream my name, having him say it over and over again. 

"Christ, please...take me to bed," I beg. 

"It'll be my pleasure." 

He swoops in and takes me in his arms, easily sweeping me off the floor. I squee surprised but he silences me with a quick but thorough kiss. 

Carrying me over to the king-size bed, he gently lays me down, crawling right over me. 

His body covers mine completely, his large hands tangling in my hair as he places soft kisses all over my face. 

"I've been dreaming about..." I start but instantly biting my lips, feeling a wave of shame wash over me. 

Goodness, what the hell am I doing? 

"You do?" he rumbles into my ear, nimble fingers pushing under my back, opening my bra. 

"Tell me about it." 

I shake my head, pressing my lips together. 

He lifts himself up, looking down at me, a curious expression on his face. 

"Please? Tell me." 

"You don't wanna know," I say, averting my eyes.

Jesus, this is the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to me. 

He eyes me and then a devious smirk appears in his reddened lips. 

"Fine. Did you dream about this? 

He pulls back and off of me, scrambling out of bed, standing right next to it. 

His eyes are locked with mine, and even if I wanted I can't look away. 

"Am I doing this in your dreams?" 

His voice has dropped to a dark purr as he starts to unbutton his jeans, revealing that he's not wearing anything under them. 

Elegantly he pushes them down and steps out of them, his cock proud and hard against his flat stomach. 

"Or this?" 

He closes a hand around himself, hissing at the contact. 

I stare, hypnotised by his slow movement as he strokes himself lazily. 

"Did you dream about this?" 

In fact, I have and I nod weakly. 

This is probably the hottest thing I have ever seen and without thinking I slip a hand past my waistband, moaning as I touch myself. 

He groans loudly but doesn't move from his spot beside the bed. 

"What else?" he asks, biting his lower lip. 

I am fascinated by his self control. I can see the slight trembles running through his body and yet he keeps his strokes slow and languid. 

His lids are fluttering but he keeps his eyes on me. 

Fuck it, I think and open my jeans, pushing them down along with my pants before I can regret it. 

I sit up and my bra goes the same way. 

Benedict's breath hitches but he still doesn't make a move towards me. 

Sliding to the edge of the bed, I beckon him to come closer. 

"Come here," I croak, my voice almost failing me. 

He lets go of his cock and takes two steps so he comes to stand right in front of me. 

I can smell his clean sweat and and the musky scent of his arousal. I can feel the throbbing need between my own legs, making rational thinking impossible. 

I reach out with shaky hands, letting them slide over his thighs, memorising the feeling of his muscles against my fingertips. 

His hands are hanging by his side and I brush against his slender wrists as I slip further up before I still on his hips. 

I look up and the sight of him leaves me breathless. 

He's watching me through half closed lids but I can see how dark his eyes have gone, can see the heaving of his chest, see how he swallows hard. 

Before my brain can back away, I lean forward and take his cock in my mouth, moaning involuntarily as his taste explodes on my tongue. 

He shudders heavily as I take him deeper, my fingers digging in the hard curve of his hipbones, pulling him closer. 

I can feel his dark gaze on me like a physical touch but my own eyes close on their own accord. 

Every other sense - taste, scent, touch - intensifies immediately. 

His cock is pulsing, bitterness filling my mouth as I swirl my tongue slowly over the head, wanting to take it all in. His skin is burning; thin and satiny over hot hard steel. 

I feel his hands lower on my head, pushing into my hair but he's neither pushing nor pulling, just holding on. 

Blood is rushing loudly in my veins, and it takes me a moment to realise that Benedict is cursing wildly. 

"Fuck, stop... you gotta stop now," I hear and oddly disappointed I pull back, looking up at him. 

"Jesus, you're incredible," he growls, pulling my to my feet he kisses me feverishly. 

His cock is pressing against my stomach, I feel his pulse racing in it. 

When he pulls back his eyes are black and he's panting. 

"I ... I think I may have underestimated my self control a little," he mutters, urging me gently back onto the bed. 

It makes me chuckle but turns into a cry of pleasure as his lips close around a nipple. One hands cups my other breast. He's licking, biting and reduces me to a writhing mess on the bed. 

"I wanted to to take it slow...wanted to explore every inch of your body...but I don't think I can do that right now." 

His words are stammered, he is breathing heavily, his hips making shallow little thrusts against the sheets. 

Instead of an answer I arch against him, letting him feel how wet I am. 

He curses again and dives into another fierce kiss before he lets go and leans over to rummage through the nightstand. 

He fights with the wrapping but eventually tears the condom open and quickly rolls it on. 

Then his gaze returns to me and the naked lust in those eyes makes me moan unashamed, reaching out for him. 

He slides between my legs, nudging them apart with his knees, settling between my thighs. 

His cock brushes over my sex, rubbing against me and I whimper helplessly. 

Lifting my hips I urge him wordlessly on. 

He angles himself and finally slides inside me. 

The feeling of him, thick and hard, slowly entering me and the needy little sounds he makes are dizzying. My head is swimming and I feel as if I am floating. 

"Hold me," I whisper, my fingers slipping into his hair once more. 

Carefully he lowers himself down, keeping his full weight on his lower arms, framing my face. His hands cup my face, his thumb running over my lower lip. 

I lick at the pad, moaning loudly as he circles his hips experimentally. 

"Good lord, you're tight," he murmurs, thrusting a little deeper, making me clench around his length.

His arms are shaking, his muscles trembling visibly; he is still trying to take it slow but it's getting harder and harder. 

I wrap my legs around his waist, digging my heels in his lower back and arch up into him. 

He growls roughly, his fingers slipping into my hair, holding me tightly as he starts moving. 

First it's slow but so deep I can feel every thrust down to the marrow of my bones. 

Sweat is forming on his face, his breath becomes erratic and his entire body is vibrating with the effort to keep it slow. 

It's glorious, the sounds he makes are fuelling my own desire as obviously my moans do the same to him. 

He leans down, capturing my mouth in a tantalising deep kiss, his tongue diving deep inside all the while he's trying to take me apart from the inside. 

"Benedict," I groan against his lips, just for the pleasure of saying his name. 

I feel his smile and then he lets go, lifting himself up on his arms, looking down at me. 

His eyes are huge and burning with a passionate fire that it makes my skin sizzle. 

"Ally," he whispers, his voice thick with want, and my name has never sounded so sexy. 

I buck my hips, my hands have somehow settled on his lower back and I pull him hard against me, moaning loudly at the feeling of him filling me completely. 

"I wanna see you come apart because of me," he murmurs, moving with more purpose now. 

His pants are harsh, his heart is racing, I can see it in the vein on his straining neck. 

His eyes are boring into mine, wide open, drinking in my every move, every gasp I make. 

The way he's looking at me is driving me mad but as I want to close me eyes, he growls. 

"Don't you dare," he rumbles, emphasising it with a soft tug on my hair, "keep looking at me..." 

"Keep looking," he grunts again, thrusting faster, hoarse moans falling from his kiss bruised lips. 

My grip on him loosens with every pump of his hips. Sweat is slicking the friction of his stomach against mine. 

I get lost in his eyes, drilling deep into mine, not leaving me for one second. 

My hands fall down onto the mattress, weakly grabbing for a hold as his pace increases; the force of it shifts me up the sheets a little. 

Faintly I realise that I am moaning constantly now, my skin feels too tight, everything swims out of focus but his eyes. 

I can feel the tell tale tingle in my spine, my toes curl in pleasure and the sensation of Benedict's slick body on mine is almost too much to bare. 

"Come for me." 

I won't be able to say how I uttered those words but it spurs him on; his thrusts become erratic and then he groans loudly, his eyes falling shut and his entire body stiffens. 

I clench around him, making him cry out as he spills his release into me. 

Fascinated I watch him, his eyes closed, biting his lip, sweat making his face glow in the dim light. 

I have never seen anything more beautiful than him losing control like this. 

And as his lids flutter open, his gaze hazy and clouded in post orgasmic bliss, it only takes one more weak thrust of his and I am coming myself. 

I barely feel one of his hands slip between our bodies, but as one finger brushes over my sweet spot, I scream out in pleasure. 

"Yeah," he growls, the words husky and dark, "let go...for me..." 

And that voice of his, warm and seductive in my ear, so close, makes me lose myself in my climax. 

My entire body is convulsing, trembling heavily under him until I collapse into the mattress, gasping for air. 

"God, that was the sexiest thing I have ever seen," he whispers, rubbing his finger through the wetness between my legs, making me shudder again. 

"God, have mercy," I murmur and he chuckles. 

The sound and the feel of it chases a bone crushing shiver through me. 

"Fuck, stop it." 

"Ah right, voice kink, I remember," he purrs, his tongue licking over the shell of my ear, making me buck into him. 

He chuckles again but slips out of me, falling on his back next to me, taking deep ragged breaths. 

My body feels boneless and it's quite the effort to roll on my side so I can look at him. 

But it's worth it: Benedict lays on his back, his toned chest still heaving. I let my eyes wander over his naked form, smiling hazily. 

He's completely pliant, his body sunk deep into the mattress, arms relaxed by his side, a blissful smile lingering on his lips. 

I reach out for him before I think better of it and pull my hand back. 

He sees my movement though and turns to look at me. 

"Hey," he whispers, the smile brightening his face, breathtaking in its openness. 

"Hey," I murmur, suddenly shy. 

He rolls on his side and splays his hand on the pillow, palm up, an eyebrow raised at me. 

"You can still touch, you know," he says softly. 

I watch him closely, trying to read his face before I hesitantly slip my own hand in his. 

He laces his fingers with mine and squeezes gently. 

We lay like this for a while, silently watching each other. 

Suddenly he yawns, immediately grinning sheepishly at me. 

"Sorry, was a long day. You must be tired too..." 

The sentence hangs in the air between us. 

I nod. 

"A bit." 

"Would you..." he hesitates, rubbing his free hand nervously over his neck and it shoots a jolt of odd joy through me. 

"Would you like to have breakfast with me?" 

I smile. 

"I would love that." 

The grin on his face could light up the entire city and he leans over to kiss me. Only a quick brush of lips against lips but it makes my stomach flutter. 

The prospect of having a bit more time with this extraordinary man is like a dream come true. 

"Sleep first?" he asks, suppressing another yawn. 

I chuckle. 

"Sounds like a good idea." 

Sitting up he pulls the covers loose from under our bodies and I slip happily under them. 

He lays them over us, making sure I am completely under them. 

"Good night," he murmurs and closes his eyes. 

Only a few minutes later he's sound asleep. 

I keep watching him for a few more precious minutes before sleep takes over and I sink into darkness. 

 *

Sunlight on my face wakes me. Grumbling I bury my face deeper into the pillow, hiding from the bright light. 

A low chuckle next to me has me blink my eyes open. 

Benedict sits next to me, propped against the headboard. 

He's been reading, a script lays on his duvet covered lap. Besides that he's naked, his bare chest shimmers golden in the sunlight coming through the huge windows. 

A sharp pang of white hot desire shoots through me as my vision clears enough to register that he's wearing his glasses, watching me over the rim. A soft smile lingers on his lips. 

His short hair is a curly mess, surrounding his head like a dark corona. 

But my gaze is instantly drawn back to those damn glasses, adorning his face, making him look even more devourable than he already is. 

"Good morning," he says, stroking a strand of hair out of my face. 

His touch, however fleeting, is too much for my libido. 

I growl lowly and crawl out from under the covers, my eyes glued to his. 

He raises an eyebrow but drops the script on the floor as I slowly pull down the covers from his lap and settle between his spread thighs. 

"Morning," I murmur, kissing a trail up his flat belly, relishing the smoothness of his skin under my lips. I can feel his muscles tense and smirk. 

"Did you..ahh...sleep well?" he asks but gasps as I reach his nipples, licking languidly over each of them. 

I make a noncommittal sound, carefully nibbling at the sensitive flesh. 

He curses roughly and I feel his cock stir against my stomach. 

I grin again and let my fingers run over his sides before I dig my nails into the thin skin just above his hipbones. 

He hisses and the sound of that goes straight between my legs. 

I keep kissing and biting while I slide up until I can kiss his mouth. 

He's already brushed his teeth so I don't feel to bad about morning breath as I melt into him. 

His hands close around my arse, squeezing hard, making me arch into him. His cock, fully hard now, rubs over my stomach, leaving a wet trail. 

Benedict lets go of me and moves to take off his glasses. 

"No, leave them," I whisper as I sit back, leaning over him to open the drawer next to the bed. 

I tear open the condom and shuffle down far enough to reach his cock, quickly rolling it on. 

Wordlessly he's watching me but the heat in his eyes, even behind the spectacles is burning my skin. 

Kissing his hip I scramble back up, straddling his lap, my hands splaying over his chest for leverage. 

As I lift myself a little his eyes widen and he quickly pushes his legs together so I can kneel over him. 

I lean down, capturing his mouth in a short feverish kiss. 

"I wanna ride you till you scream my name," I murmur as I break away, circling my hips over his throbbing cock, teasing him. 

His head falls back and he groans, long and low, making me dig my nails deep into his skin. 

"Filthy filthy woman," he grunts, chasing a carnal need through my entire body. 

"You can talk," I reply hoarsely as I reach between us, guiding him inside me. 

As I slowly sink down on him, the sounds he makes are making me dizzy with unadulterated want. 

"Never said I wasn't," he pants, his hands sliding restlessly over my legs before they settle on my hips. He holds me tight and thrusts up, making us both moan loudly. 

"God, you feel so fucking good," he breathes shakily. 

The glasses have slipped down on his nose and threaten to fall down. 

I reach out with shaky hands but instead of pushing them back up, I take them off and put them on myself. 

His pupils blow wide and with an maniacal grunt he pushes hard into me, making me almost fall off of him. 

"Dear Lord, that is hot. Now I know what you mean..." he says between gritted teeth, his nostrils flaring with the effort to control himself. 

"Move, please move." 

I don't need to hear that twice. 

Benedict is still propped against the headboard and I place my hands on his chest, feeling his heart hammering under my palm. 

Slowly I lift up a bit before sinking down again and he bites back a cry. 

I keep doing that, alternating between short, harsh motions and long, sensual slides. 

My knees are shaking with the task of moving but it's so worth for the look on Benedict's angelic face. 

Droplets of sweat run down his temples, the sun on his face is carving out those sharp cheekbones like daggers. His mouth is hanging open as he gasps for air. 

Every now and then I strain my inner muscles, making him shudder and groan heavily under me. 

Having control like this, controlling his pleasure, his entire being - even if it's only for a few short moments - is thrilling and only adds to the sensation of him inside me. 

His hands have left my hips, fell down into the sheets, scrabbling for a hold. 

I grab them and lift them over his head, shifting my weight on him, and the changed angle makes us both yelp in pleasure. 

Pressing his delicate wrists deep into the pillow under his head, I move faster, searching his eyes. 

I wanna see him come apart, wanna see him losing himself in me. 

"Bloody fucking hell," he gasps, writhing and bucking into me, trying to take me deeper but he can't. Not with me on top of him, pushing down on him. 

"Jesus fucking Christ..." 

It sounds like a plea: the words husky and deep, rumbling through his chest like thunder. 

"Come for me," I whisper, clenching hard around him, my own orgasm not far away, "come for me, Benedict..." 

He cries out what sounds like my name, his back lifts from the bed as he arches into me, and that last push undoes me as well. 

Hot waves of pleasure wash over me as I come and I collapse onto his sweaty chest, letting go of his wrists. 

His arms instantly go around my back, pulling me closer and he thrusts weakly into me, moaning lowly against my shoulder. 

When I come back to my senses, we lay face to face, his fingers gently caressing my cheek.

He smiles boyishly when I blink my eyes open. 

"Hello." 

I smile back, a bit weak. 

"Hello." 

"That was fantastic," he says quietly, "didn't know my glasses could be so bloody sexy." 

I chuckle silently. 

"Do you see now why I find glasses on you so hot?!" 

He nods, smirking as he plucks them off my nose and pushes them on his own. 

"I guess I'll be wearing them a bit more often in the future." 

I groan at the sight, biting my lips. 

"You perhaps don't wanna wear them in public though," I suggest, reaching out and run my finger over his lower lip. 

"People might molest you even more." 

He giggles and the sound of it makes my heart beat a bit faster. 

"I'll be careful." 

He falls silent, watching me thoughtfully through the slightly smudged glasses. 

"Breakfast?" he eventually asks, sounding a bit insecure out of a sudden. 

"If you still want, yes. I am starving," I reply quietly. 

"So am I," he says, kissing my nose. “I’ll order some room-service. Any preferences?" 

I shake my head. 

"Whatever they have." 

He nods and scrambles out of bed. 

I watch him pull on a pair of sweatpants and a shirt before he reaches for the phone. 

His voice is soft as he orders everything they have on the breakfast menu, and it makes me smile. 

His movements are a bit stiff yet he's moving with a grace that still strikes me speechless. 

Such a tall man shouldn't be able to move with such elegance and ease. 

It's one of the many reasons I adore him so much. 

Oh. 

Suddenly it hits me. 

I just spent the night with him. 

The man I admire and never thought I'd meet. 

In whose bed I am currently lying, naked no less, his sweat slowly drying on my heated skin. 

I blush and pull the covers over myself, needing a moment to process that. 

"Ta very much. Just leave it in the hallway, I'll get it," I hear him say, then the click as he hangs up. 

I hear him move around the room before the bed dips and the duvet is pulled away. 

"You hiding?" he asks curiously. 

I shake my head, still trying to grasp the whole thing. 

Tilting his head he eyes me before he leans down and kisses me. 

"Don't." 

I don't know what he means but he already continues talking. 

"You wanna shower before breakfast?" 

I nod and crawl out of bed. Showering seems a good idea, maybe it'll help to sort my thoughts. 

Stumbling into the bathroom, I close the door behind me, my head suddenly swirling. 

After a moment I push away from the door and switch on the shower, stepping under the hot water. 

For a while I let it just rain down on me, not moving. 

My mind is all over the place but I try to shut up the 'what now?' that pops up in big red letters. 

There is no 'what now' I tell myself, it was a one night only thing. He's single, I was willing, that's all. 

The longer I think the worse the idea of breakfast sounds. Perhaps it's better to leave right away, storing the night safely away in my head and forget him. 

Yes, that's probably the best. 

I finish my shower and wrap myself into one of the bathrobes but my clothes are still in the bedroom. Taking a deep breath I open the door and walk in. 

Benedict sits by the window, staring out into the bright morning. 

He turns his head when I enter the room and a smile blooms over his face. 

"I thought you climbed out the window," he says casually, standing up. 

I clear my throat, avoiding his eyes as I collect my clothes. 

"Listen, I gotta go. I am sorry, I..." 

"Ally." 

Nothing else, only my name but it's the tone, thick with something I cannot define. 

I swallow hard and look up, meeting his gaze. 

"Stay. Please. We didn't have a chance to talk much." 

He looks a little lost, his eyes are begging me to stay. 

"Why?" I ask, trying to school my expression into something hard. 

"Because I want to know more about you." 

It seems to me as if he wants to say more but then he shakes his head. 

I sigh and steel myself. 

"Benedict, this was just sex and you know it. As much as I wished there would be more, there won’t.” 

I tear my eyes away from him and get dressed, all the while feeling him watching me. 

"And if I want it to be more?" 

It's only hushed and I almost don’t hear it. 

"Sorry?" 

"You heard me." 

I frown at him but his expression is unreadable. 

We stare at each other for a long moment until a knock at the door makes us both jump. 

"That's breakfast," Benedict murmurs. 

He slowly walks towards the door. 

I am frozen, I don’t know what to do anymore. 

The desire to stay is overwhelming but I need to think rationally here. 

He's a famous actor and I'm a teacher, this is never going to work. 

He's not even living here, only visiting, what chance is there for us?! 

None. 

"If you have to leave, at least have a coffee with me. Please." 

His voice surrounds me as he walks past, pushing a fully loaded breakfast trolley over to the small table by the window. 

Oh fuck it, a tiny voice in my head says, it's only coffee. 

"Fine," I say, following him over to where he arranges plates. 

He tries to hide the smile on his face but I can see it and it shoots a spark of joy through me despite myself. 

"Black?"

"Two sugars, please." I say as I sit own, watching him pouring me a cup. 

He folds himself into the small chair, sipping silently on his own coffee. 

The silence between us is heavy and I squirm uncomfortably. 

"Listen," Benedict says out of a sudden, "would it be too much if I ask for your number?" 

I almost spill my coffee. 

"What? Why?" 

Hearing the shock in my own voice, I blush. 

"Because I might wanna call you?" he says, ducking his head to look at me. 

I sigh; he's too much of a gentleman for his own good. 

"Benedict, as much as I'd love to..." 

"C'mon, what do you have to lose?" 

I watch him watching me with those beautiful multicoloured eyes, shifting from blue to green to gold in the sunlight. 

And I give in. 

As he said, I don’t have anything to lose. He won't call anyways. He'll leave and will have forgotten about me. And even if he does, there will be a bloody ocean between us so that's pretty futile. He'll see that once he's had time to think about it. 

He sees my resistance crumble and beams at me and that smile melts my heart. 

"Fucking bastard," I mutter under my breath, making him chuckle joyfully. 

I roll my eyes at him but my heart's thudding in my chest.

"Gimme something to write then." 

He gets up, striding over to his jacket at the door and pulls out his phone. 

Fiddling with it, he comes back and sits down again. 

"Shoot," he says, still all smiles and brightness. 

I dictate him my number, still wondering why exactly I am doing this. 

"Thank you," he says after a moment of concentrated silence. 

"Uhm," he hesitates, "mind if I take a picture of you? For the contact details." 

I roll my eyes defeated; I can't deny him much when he looks at me like that. 

"Go ahead." 

He points the phone at me and I raise my cup mockingly. 

Eyeing me with a raised eyebrow over the phone, I sigh again and lower the cup. 

I hear it snap and his smile brightens even more. 

"Gorgeous." 

He fumbles with his phone a bit longer and I finish my coffee. 

I don't ask him for his number and he doesn't offer it. 

Best to keep it that way, I'm not sure what I would do if I had his number. 

"Well then, I'd better be off, I'm sure you have things to do," I say, setting my empty cup down and getting up. 

"Not really," he replies but stands as well. 

"You sure, you don't want to eat something?" 

"Benedict, please, don't..." 

He raises his hand in surrender. 

"Okay, okay." 

He trudges after me as I walk to the door, picking up my jacket from the floor where it fell last night. 

As I lay my hand on the door knob, he holds me back. 

"Here, for the way." 

Before I know what he means, he leans down and kisses me gently. 

It's short and sweet and it makes my knees weak and my heart pound. 

"See you around," he murmurs and steps back. 

"Take care of yourself," I reply lowly, taking one last long look at him. 

God, he's such a wonderful man. 

Without another word I turn and leave, closing the door carefully behind me. 

Walking down the corridor, the tiny voice in my head rages loudly about what a damn fool I am. 

I rigorously shut it up by pushing last night into the furthest corner of my mind and locking it away. 

Back in the lobby, I blink into the bright lights. 

Everything seems overly surreal and yet I will never forget my night with Benedict Cumberbatch. 

A smile creeps on my face and stays there as I pull my jacket closer and step out into the cold morning. 

 *

My phone buzzes eight hours later just when I leave work.

A text from an unknown number.

'I can't stop thinking about you. Dinner tonight?'

Nothing else.

And with a sharp pang of realisation I know he'll make it impossible to ever forget him.

I've tried. All day long. Tried to stop thinking about him, the way he tastes, the was he feels, the way he looked at me.

I know, he's going to break my heart when he leaves and yet I can't do anything about it.

But that doesn't mean, I can't enjoy the time till then.

It'll be worth a broken heart.

Smiling I text back.

'Yes'

 


End file.
